


pink lips and denim jackets

by Bagell



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, Flirting, Hunter's Moon Bar (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Karaoke, Maia falls in love with Clary singing Spice Girls, Pre-Canon, Strangers to Lovers, can see this as, or - Freeform, the fic title should've been, tw//
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 11:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19927699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bagell/pseuds/Bagell
Summary: This is nowhere near the weirdest thing Maia’s seen at this bar, and not even close to the first time she’s been flirted with by a patron, but it’s one of the first time Maia’s been genuinely affected, jaw hanging open while the redhead stares directly back at her with strikingly hazel eyes.-Or, it's karaoke night at the Hunter's Moon, and Maia is completely unprepared for the girl with wild red hair and a tendency to meet her unconscious stares.





	pink lips and denim jackets

**Author's Note:**

> tw for the fic// alcohol
> 
> prompt: it's karaoke night and we're both embarrassing ourselves
> 
> team: red
> 
> event: shadowhunters wlw fic bingo summer 2019
> 
> fic: written
> 
> me: tired
> 
> hotel? trivago

Maia looks up from the drink she’s mixing at the sound of the bell above the door tinkling. 

A group of people catch her eye in the window, three people about her age giggling next to a grossly banana-colored van. One of them, a redhead, shakes a can of green spray paint and sets to work.

It’s not the first time Maia’s seen vandalization while on shift. People just usually are less blatant about it and don’t do it to the biggest, most garish vehicle that also happens to be _right_ in view of the window of the bar the owner is probably grabbing a drink in. 

Critical thinking aside, the redhead has skills. They’ve contrasted the green with a violent orange and set it all behind white outlined black text reading “Ambidextrous Biscotti”. Maia doesn’t understand the significance but it’s certainly a statement.

Maia turns back to the shaker in her hand and directs her attention fully back to serving up the drinks. 

She works barely another fifteen minutes before she looks at the door again, the silver bell ringing and accompanying the entrance of the redhead and their friends. One of them, a cute glasses wearing brunette, comes to get shots for the group as the redhead and their other friend sit down.

Throughout the night, Maia’s eyes keep finding the redhead. They _are_ really cute, with freckles and ginger hair draped across their shoulders. It’s karaoke night tonight at the Hunter's Moon and they yell the loudest in the room when their two friends go up and belt a few songs with Disney worthy voices, grinning sweet and open when they blow them kisses between lines. The two onstage bow after their song, thanking the “audience” they have of the dozen or so other bar patrons. “Thank you, thank you, we’re Ambidextrous Biscotti, check out our site and music.” No one listens, of course, wrapped up in conversation or on the way to getting wasted.

At one point, Maia brings a tray of their orders to the table while the redhead’s friends are singing again, and the redhead meets her eyes while taking their drink. They smile dorkily and thank her, a contrast to the heated look Maia was almost expecting, and Maia flounders a little inside while she goes on to another table with a dumb wave. 

Later, back at the bar, Maia’s eyes widen more visibly as the redhead pushes themself out of their seat, stumbling over to the tiny stage. They’re clearly tipsy, grabbing the mic and taking a cheeky little bow. “Simon and Maureen,” they yell into the mic, unnecessarily loud for the tiny bar. “This one is for _you_.” Their voice is surprisingly stable for someone standing half bent over, looking about to fall over any second.

And dear god. Objectively, their voice isn’t _bad_ . But all drunkenness seems to disappear as the redhead launches into _Wannabe_ , with full choreography, strutting across the tiny stage, finger snapping at the audience in their jade green flats. Their friends cheer them on, _loudly_ , and normally Maia would be so very annoyed but she’s just… gobsmacked. And a little _enamored_ if she’s honest, though she quickly snaps out of that thought when the performer turns, tossing their fiery hair over their shoulder and throwing a wink _directly at Maia_ while singing “zigazig ah”.

This is nowhere near the weirdest thing Maia’s seen at this bar, and not even close to the first time she’s been flirted with by a patron (is this flirting? Does this count as flirting? People speak a different dimensional language when they’re drunk), but it’s one of the first time Maia’s been genuinely affected, jaw hanging open while the redhead stares directly back at her with strikingly hazel eyes.

Then that’s over, though not before they shoot her another wink with their full, deep bow and jump off the stage. Christ, was that an experience and a half. The three friends continue to chatter loudly as more people take a turn at the karaoke stage. Maia considers asking them to quiet down before realizing they’re not actually disturbing anyone. A few people come up to them, make conversation pleasantly, and the group keep shooting looks at people who don’t to make sure they’re not bothered. Maia usually doesn’t see this type of consideration from the loud ones. And they’re not exactly bothering her either, so she decides to leave them alone. 

Still, that doesn’t mean she stops staring at the redhead throughout the night, especially when they shed their denim jacket and hop up on the stage again. 

And again.

And again.

The fifth time, Maia’s just about ready to slam her face into the sink faucet. Through every song (and even when they weren’t on stage) Maia’s brain decided to take note of little things about them. Like that their hands and lower arms are stained with black and colors of the rainbow. Charcoals and pastels, would be Maia’s guess, though she can’t really see from her spot at the bar and straightens, embarrassed, when she finds herself leaning over the bar to get a closer look. Or that they always keep the mic a proper distance from their face, a note they probably took from their friends, who Maia has supposed are in a band. Or even that the redhead has _definitely_ noticed Maia’s staring by now, meeting her eyes like a challenge every single time they catch her.

Still, Maia doesn’t mess up or slow the making of people’s drinks, because she’s a _professional_ , god damn it, no matter that there’s a ridiculously cute patron in the bar tonight who keeps meeting her stares.

That doesn’t mean she’s very focused on her surroundings though, because she has to take a second to ponder what’s going on when the regulars from the bar are all suddenly looking at her. Did she miss a drink? Her eyes scan the room, landing on the small screen displaying karaoke lyrics right as the newcomers also catch on and start following the others’ gazes.

And oh _god_. Of course this had to happen tonight.

The screen displays the Hunter's Moon’s logo, black text over it boldly announcing: _Bartender Shuffle-- Maia!_

So, the thing about the Hunter's Moon is that it’s a small, relatively intimate bar, with plenty of regulars. Most of the bartenders know at least a few customers by name, and it’s all a pretty friendly atmosphere. So one karaoke night, a few months ago, when one of the bartenders joked to another about having a little game where the workers could sing too, a group of patrons overheard and announced it to the entire bar, who all agreed enthusiastically. Which in turn led to Maia and her coworker Devon being the first victims of the Bartender Shuffle, the title an homage to the extremely loved performance of the Cupid Shuffle they did onstage. It’s not a karaoke song, but the customers suggested it, Devon lives to serve, and Maia was willing to get peer pressured that time. 

Except that it became a recurring event, and now Maia shares the spot of the patrons’ favorite with Devon.

For good reason, too. Maia isn’t one to flex, but she is one to tell the honest truth, and the honest truth is that she is _amazing_ at karaoke and knows the Hunter’s Moon regulars enough to joke with them while onstage and singing _...Baby One More Time_ by Britney Spears.

So okay. Yes, Maia was taken by surprise tonight, too busy zoning out over a customer, but that’s nothing on the fact that Maia is the _best_ at karaoke in this bar, patrons and staff included (except for possibly Devon), and is going to give the Hunter’s Moon bar the best performance their drunk asses have ever seen, once again.

She walks out from behind the bar, rolling her eyes as Devon wolf whistles at her, tossing her apron at Devon. She steps onto the stage and grabs the mic off the stand, laughing when some of her favorite regulars cheer. “Alright losers,” she says into the mic. “Pick a song.”

“Do _Umbrella_!” someone shouts. Maia looks, and it’s one of her favorites, a girl named Joanna who tips heavily and always jokes with her at the bar. 

Maia throws her a grin. “Okay Joanna, this one’s for you.” She adds in a wink for good measure.

Maia delivers, if she does say so herself. A patron tosses her an umbrella (one she doesn’t know why they brought. It hasn’t rained in weeks) and she hams it up, jumping off the stage to dance with the patrons, not looking at the screen once because they’ve requested this song so many times that she knows it by heart. Circling through the tables, she sits on one and leans back, umbrella resting on her shoulder, tossing her head as she sings, “You can run into my arms.” Her eyes meet the redhead’s, who’s sitting at the table and laughing, surprised. And _oh_ , Maia totally should have checked which table she was going to, because their laugh sounds like sunshine and waterfalls and Maia trips on a line, something she hasn’t done in weeks. She gets up, finishing the song and getting back into her groove, eyes unable to resist coming back to the redhead every few seconds.

After that, Maia immensely needs a drink, so she thanks the patrons, reminds them of the discounts they have at the bar tonight, blows a few kisses, all the jazz, before almost rushing back to the bar and pouring herself a shot. She slams it back, meeting Devon’s stare with a pointed look and grabbing her apron. And it’s fine after that. The burn in her throat only lasts a little while but enough to ground her, to let her get back into the swing of work. The pleasant buzz that remains does poorly to distract her from staring as the redhead takes yet another few songs, but she can pretend the alcohol has helped.

Alcohol could not help in the _least_ bit when Maia watches their eyes narrow as their friends say something. At this point, Maia hasn’t even noticed she’s staring, but she pays attention when they get up and stalk to the bar, eyes looking directly at Maia’s.

Finally, they’re right in front of the bar, and they hop on a stool, leaning with their forearms on the counter into Maia’s space. Their jacket is still off, hair falling wildly all over bare shoulders, and their eyes are even more multicolored and piercing up close and without the adrenaline buzz of a karaoke performance. The only makeup they have on is mascara and a pretty pink lip gloss, matching their pearly blush-colored nails. It’s a soft look, and Maia is staring all over again and really needs to focus because they’re opening their mouth and again, Maia is a _professional_ , she can take an order from a cute patron.

They smile. “I’m Clary,” they say. “She/her.”

Maia nods. Pretty name. “I’m Maia. Also she/her. Can I get you something?”

Clary laughs. It’s still a delightful laugh. “No, I think I’ve had enough to drink for one night, don’t you?” She looks up at Maia from under her lashes and Maia wills her brain not to fall offline.

“Yeah, judging from your performances, I probably shouldn’t give you anymore,” she replies, moving to mix someone else’s cocktail.

“My performances were _incredible_ , I’ll have you know,” she says, waggling an insistent finger at Maia.

Maia laughs, bright and loud. “I never said they weren’t.”

“That actually brings me to the reason I came here,” Clary says, and Maia raises an eyebrow, prompting her to go on. She tosses the shaker as Clary watches. She wasn’t _trying_ to show off, but she certainly isn’t _complaining_ as she feels Clary’s gaze at her back. After awhile, Clary continues, and Maia grins smugly at the half dazed look on her face, only partially caused by all the alcohol she’s consumed. “My friends dared me to ask the cutest girl or feminine-aligned person in the room to do a duet with me,” Clary says. Maia’s eyebrows raise at that. “And, seeing as you’ve been staring at me the entire night and we’ve both been utterly embarrassing ourselves onstage, I should ask you if you’re a girl before moving on to anyone else.”

Maia laughs again, cheeks burning at the mention of her unsubtle staring but pleasantly taken with this person and conversation nonetheless. “Yes, I am a girl,” Maia finally replies. “And I can’t tell whether to be flattered that you think I’m cute or appalled that you would call my Tony Award worthy performance embarrassing. And that you’d move on so quickly had I told you no.”

“Oh, sorry,” Clary replies jauntily. “I meant embarrassing for everyone else here, because they could never compare.” She pauses, mulling over the rest of Maia’s reply. “And please, I am a _respectful_ lesbian. If someone does not want to duet with me, thought I _can’t_ imagine why, I will respect their decision and move on.”

Maia nods. “I admire that. So, since I am the cute girl you have chosen, what will we be singing?”

Clary hums, propping her elbow on her wrist to tap her chin with a colorful finger. Up close, Maia can see that it _is_ pastel. Unconsciously, Maia leans forward across the counter, watching Clary exaggeratingly think. “I think,” Clary finally says, still drawing it out. She toys a finger on the counter, dragging it around in little shapes. “That the cute girl and I should spend some time making this very important decision. Possibly in her break if she wishes?” She looks up at Maia, clearly nervous and biting her lip a little.

Maia inhales sharply. Tonight has taken a turn she is _not_ complaining about, and she turns toward Devon, who she knows is eavesdropping. Devon shoots her a thumbs up and an entirely inappropriate eyebrow waggle, and Maia rolls her eyes before grinning at Clary. “I think the cute girl is actually on break starting now, and wishes you could take her to a table to decide.”

The furrow in Clary’s brow disappears instantly, and she straightens against the bar. “Of course. Let me buy her a drink first.”

Maia’s grin widens and she hops the counter. “Bartender!” she singsongs. “This cutie next to me wants to buy me a drink.” 

Devon walks over, sighing. “Don’t make me regret letting you have your break early.”

Maia scoffs indignantly. “You’re not the boss of me.”

Devon laughs, grabbing a shaker. “Yeah, yeah. What do you want?” 

Maia lets Clary buy her a mojito and they make their way to a table, not with Clary’s friends because she insists that picking a song is incredibly important and confidential business and they can’t afford to get distracted. Maia can see in the urgency at which Clary steers them away from them that she just doesn’t want to get teased and finds herself smiling at Clary’s antics.

They spend forever giggling over the songbook, both buzzed on alcohol and high on each other’s laughter. When Clary points out that they have _Never Gonna Give You Up_ on the catalogue, Maia doubles over the table in loud, snorting laughter, toppling over into Clary. It’s not that funny, but Clary’s suddenly laughing too, and both of them are breathless and… Oh, _pressed_ up against each other. Maia’s about to move, but Clary sets her chin on Maia’s shoulder and they spend the rest of their time selecting a song with Maia leaning forward and Clary’s entire side against hers so she can see over Maia’s shoulder. Maia’s afro tickles Clary’s ear a few times and they both giggle.

Finally, they decide on a song, one that’s maybe a little too perfect for the situation, but Maia carries on even with the butterflies in her stomach. She knows it’s long past her break but Devon doesn’t seem to mind much and the bar isn’t too busy tonight.

She lets Clary take her hand, butterflies soaring louder, and laughs when Clary releases it right before the stage “for the sake of the performance”. Suddenly, Maia gets an idea and she stops Clary, murmuring in her ear. She knows it’s unnecessary with how loud and absorbed in their own conversations the other patrons are, but Maia will be first to admit she wanted an excuse to be close to Clary again after they left their little table.

Clary’s face gets unbelievably bright at the idea, staring at Maia like she’s the smartest and most fun person on the planet, which is weird because after the last few minutes, Maia’s sure that must be Clary. Clary proves Maia’s point when she leans in, adding on to Maia’s plan and Maia laughs out loud. Never let it be said that anyone in this world is more extra than Maia Roberts and Clary Fray.

They go their separate ways then, Clary going to tell Simon and Maureen the plan, and Maia hurrying to get a book from the back room and to tell Devon. Devon rolls Devon’s eyes when Maia explains but agrees to go with it, clearly excited despite Devon’s attitude. Maia gives the book to Clary and stands off to the right of the stage, towards the back wall. Clary sits down with the book right as Simon and Maureen climb on stage, and Maia grins to herself. Clary looks up at her and smiles sweetly, and they both giggle.

None of the patrons protest when Simon and Maureen launch into a song without any background track playing behind them. It’s only six lines long, a fraction of a song, but the audience claps anyway when the two end gorgeously, staring into each other’s eyes in mock romance at “Baby, you’ll be in my heart.” 

Devon runs on stage then, standing between them. “Yeah!” Devon says into the mic as Simon and Maureen clear off the stage. “Who’s gonna _rock_ the house next?” Devon looks around the room. The customers know by now that something is going on, so none of them volunteer. Devon hops off the stage. Their bar doesn’t have spotlights so Devon has grabbed flashlights from the back, pointing one first at Maia, then the other at Clary. Devon laughs exaggeratingly into the mic. Clary looks up at the light, pretending to be surprised and bothered. Maia doesn’t even bother to play her part, laughing out loud at Clary’s fake perturbed face. Devon walks over to Clary, guiding her up by the hand as she waves her head around wildly, pretending to look for an escape. Meanwhile, Simon and Maureen come up behind Maia and clap her on the back, pushing her onstage. “I don’t sing,” Maia says, splaying her hands out. “I can’t. No! God!” 

Clary rubs her arms as Devon comes between them, putting a mic in Maia’s hand. “You know, someday,” Devon says. “Someday you guys might thank me for this.” Devon leaves. “Or not.” Maia pretends to glare at Devon, which isn’t hard. 

Clary’s doing an amazing job at exaggerating all of her acting shuffling her feet and making her eyes as wide as possible. Maia doesn’t have to pretend much to gape at her. She looks amazing under the bar’s dim lighting. 

The beginning notes of the song start and Simon wolf whistles, bursting Clary’s bubble for a second and sending her into a laugh before she schools her face and pretends to look anxious again.

Maia places the mic on the stand in front of her, leaning forward at the first line. “Living in my own world,” she sings, and Clary darts a look over at her, in character but also so, so not. “Didn’t understand…” Maia finishes the verse and turns away from the mic stand, walking towards the back wall. She’s grinning, waiting for Clary’s entrance.

“I never believed it…” Clary starts, right on cue, and Maia slowly turns to stare at her over her shoulder. Clary’s looking at her instead of the front, obviously waiting for the motion, and they both completely break character as they burst into laughter. The background track keeps playing behind them, but they can’t get it together.

They wait for the next verse, chiming in together. “I know…” 

Clary continues, ignoring Gabriella’s part and looking right at Maia. “...That something has changed.”

Maia looks back at her as she joins in. Clary looks… otherworldly. They’re in a mediocre bar in New York, it’s nighttime and all the light inside is an unflattering yellow, and yet Clary is glowing, pink lips shining and hazel eyes bright under long lashes. Her smile is so big and Maia wants to cause it as many times as she can. “Never felt this way…”

“And right here tonight…”

“This could be the start!” They’ve abandoned the script of High School Musical at this point, turning fully to each other and just serenading in their kind of okay voices. Maia grabs the mic stand and swings it around her and Clary laughs, taking her mic off the stand so she can step closer.

When they sing “And the world looks so much brighter!” Maia dissolves for a second into her thoughts. It doesn’t, but Clary looks brighter, she looks brighter than the whole room and Maia knows that means nothing but she also wants to look more and see what it _could_ mean. 

They both almost fall off the stage, Maia once and Clary twice, which matches the song but is completely unintentional. It just makes them do wilder dance moves (that shouldn’t be considered “dance” or “moves” in the slightest) and laugh louder.

When they finish, they’re no longer laughing, pressed close with only room for the mics between them. They’re both a little breathless, due to the performance among other things, and the whole room of by now less than ten patrons are clapping and cheering wildly. 

They’re holding hands again, which must’ve happened somewhere in the song. 

“We didn’t stay on script,” Maia says.

“I know,” Clary says. “I think it’s fine.”

“We still did better than anyone ever.” 

A boo sounds, and more cheers, and Maia suddenly remembers they’re still on the tiny stage. She hops off, still holding on to Clary’s hand as she also hops off, and takes Devon’s offer when Devon waves her off. She knows she’ll totally owe Devon later, but it’s so totally worth it. 

Maia leads Clary to the alley outside instead of their table. They stand against the wall, chattering and laughing immediately, and it’s only when Maia shivers that Clary stops. “Hold on,” she says, and runs back into the bar.

She comes back holding her denim jacket, which she helps Maia into, and suddenly Maia is flushed from more reasons than the cold. “It’s not that cold,” she says. She shivers a moment later when Clary accidentally brushes her with an ice cold hand.

Clary raises an eyebrow and looks at her pointedly. “Uh huh, ‘not that cold’.”

Maia rolls her eyes. “Hey, I saw you shivering earlier, too!”

“Shivering? Me? Most definitely not.”

Maia rolls her eyes again. “Shut up, you dork.” She takes off the jacket and drapes it over both their shoulders. “There.”

They stay silent awhile, just grinning at each other in the dark alley. Finally, Clary pipes up with a giggle. “We totally could’ve just gone back inside to warm up.”

Maia punches her in the arm. “Maybe I just wanted excuses to be alone and close with you.”

Clary’s eyes widen and she says quickly, “I’m not complaining.”

Maia laughs. She pauses, then just decides to go for it. She says, “Can I--”, right as Clary starts, “Could I--”

They burst into giggles again. Maia waves a hand, prompting Clary to go. Clary smiles at her. “Can I get your number?”

Maia chuckles a that. “Oh my god,” she murmurs under her breath and Clary’s eyes go wide.

“What?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Maia says, grinning and handing Clary her phone.

They both just stand for the next few minutes, grinning at their phones and each other like schoolgirls, caught up and unsure what to do next. A thought hits Maia all of a sudden and she bursts into peals of laughter.

“What is it?” Clary says, rubbing Maia’s back as she collects herself. Her hands is solid on Maia’s back and Maia leans into it.

“Nothing,” Maia says, still laughing. “Just, I saw you before you walked into the bar? Outside with your friends. And technically, with staff policy, I’m supposed to report and crimes that happen on company property.” Clary’s face goes all confused and panicked at ‘crimes’, and Maia distantly thinks she looks adorable while she continues on. “I saw you spray paint that big yellow van, so unless my eyes somehow deceived me, I might have to report you to my boss for vandalization before our first date.”

There’s a second of Clary just processing, eyes going a little cross eyed as she tries to think, but ‘big yellow van’ must have triggered something, because then Clary’s laughing too, uncontrollable and bright.

“Oh my god,” she finally says. “That awful vehicle is _Simon’s_ van and we spray paint it every time he and Maureen change their band name. We just started the right side of it today so I can see why you thought that.”

Maia blushes a little, grin widening. “Okay then, assuming I didn’t mortally offend you and mess this up, can we still go on a first date without me having to report you?”

Clary smiles back at her, like sunshine and the rush of alcohol in Maia’s throat, tucking Maia’s phone in her pocket so that she can take both hands in hers. “We can go on many dates without you reporting me.”

Maia nods. If she smiles anymore, she’s sure her grin will split her face. “Sounds good to me.”

Clary nods back. “Yeah, me too.”

Maia’s moving forward before she can give herself time to think about it, heart swelling when Clary does the same and their lips meet. Clary tastes sweet, like the drinks Maia mixed for her earlier and like oranges and peaches and spring all at once, and Maia steps towards her, lifting their clasped hands to cup Clary’s cheek. Maia can taste Clary’s lip gloss as she opens her mouth and grants Maia entrance.

It’s a sweet kiss, fitting for the night, and when they pull away, they step both step back a little to put space between them before they can go anywhere else with it.

“I should go back to my friends,” Clary says.

“I should get back to work,” Maia says back.

Neither of them move.

Finally, they both huff a laugh, and Maia leans forward to place a kiss on Clary’s cheek. “I’ll see you inside,” she says, and takes herself out from under Clary’s jacket to walk back through the staff door before she can think further about it.

A second later, her phone buzzes in her pocket.

 **_clary fray_** _: first date. friday @ 6?_

Feeling the grin that’s become all too familiar tonight widen on her face, she texts back.

 **_me_** _:_ _i know a karaoke bar nearby_

 **_clary fray_** _: perfect_

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! talk to me on twitter @[coffeemundane](https://twitter.com/coffeemundane)
> 
> also here's your gay reminder that maia wore clary's jacket in canon


End file.
